We’ve just showered and we’re getting dressed. “Those panties are kind of funny.” “They’re like boy panties.” “I mean the pattern on them.” I can see having Hello Kitty or polka dots, but this is some more abstract thing, kind of like a potato print in fall colors. But I get an idea. “Boy panties, you say?” Anybody who’s read my blogs a long time know that I’ve worn panties twice in my life. That I’ll admit to. Looks like I’m about to lose count.
I’m expecting River to whip her panties down and hand them to me, and for me to do the same with my boxer briefs so we can swap, but she fishes another pair out of her drawer while I’m dropping mine. White with a black waistband. I slip them on. Squeeze my package into them. “Hmm, not bad.” She motions me over to look in the mirror. She’s right. Not bad. “Let’s see your butt.” I pose with my arms over my head and stick my ass out. We like it. I pull my jeans on and we head out for lunch.
“These ones aren’t quite as comfy as the magenta ones.” Those felt like power panties. Now I know why superman dresses like he does. “That’s not surprising. They’ve got less material, and the other ones have elastic sewn into the fabric right here to hold things together.” She makes it sound like some of them are actually designed for men. “You could get a job selling these things. To guys.”
I’ve been wearing them for a couple hours. I’m constantly reminded that I’ve got them on. The low waist makes it feel like my pants are falling down. And the cotton against my pernineum has a nice stimulating scritchy pressure to it. I think the panties are holding my balls up out of the way. If I didn’t have ED I’d be getting a boner. River made us a plan (go River!) for a celebratory afternoon rendezvous and the nice scritchy feeling is making me really impatient.